


Folie à deux

by AnnabelleLeeinaKingdombytheSea



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:37:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnabelleLeeinaKingdombytheSea/pseuds/AnnabelleLeeinaKingdombytheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor can't seem to leave the Little Bird in peace. How far will he go? And how much more can Sansa take?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caught

**Author's Note:**

> First off, the disclaimer: I don’t own GOT which is the property of George RR Martin. None of the characters are my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.
> 
>  
> 
> This is my first fic so be kind! Enjoy : )

Sansa pressed her forehead and shaking palms against the old, musty stones of the Red Keep, inhaling slowly and deeply in an attempt to calm her racing heart. This small chamber which she had discovered only days ago, formerly a servants quarters by the looks of the limp, straw filled mattress and lack of finery, had long since been abandoned. Yet the dark and dusty little room was now her only means of escape. Here she was alone; truly and finally alone. Far from all of their leering eyes and Joffrey’s cruel smirk. How could they find such pleasure in her pain and humiliation? How could they all simply stand idle as she was beaten and stripped? She, Sansa Stark of Winterfell, of noble blood. Little good that did her now, as the head of Ned Stark- the traitor, her father- continued to rot away on a pike.

She realised she owed a great deal to Lord Tyrion. Without his intervention, she knew not how much further Joffrey would have allowed his King’s guard to progress…Sansa struggled to recall exactly what the Imp had said to his nephew to make him cease his cruel game, for the sound of blood pumping in her ears had been all too overpowering as she sat cowering on the throne room floor. Yet she had not forgotten the sudden heavy weight of a thick cloak falling upon her naked, trembling shoulders. Sandor Clegane….a fowl mouthed, brute of a man with half a face, and the only one who had averted his gaze as Ser Meryn tore mercilessly at her gown; who refused to revel in her shame. Upon being returned to her chambers, Sansa had placed that white cloak within a trunk, hidden safely under her bed. She knew not exactly why.

 _"I cannot stay here all night…sadly.”_ she thought to herself, finally pulling away from the wall. Gazing out of the only window of her makeshift sanctuary, Sansa looked upon the dark purple sky and sighed. No doubt she was currently missing the privilege that was dinning with her Lord, her beloved King. After today, however, the young ruler would likely not be requesting the pleasure of her company, although someone would soon be along to ensure she was safely trapped within her chambers. Slowly, Sansa lifted the large hood of her silken cape over her rust coloured tresses, careful to tuck the ends behind her shoulders. Though proud of her Tully attributes, she had quickly learned that they inhibited her ability to roam the halls of the castle undetected. Satisfied with her disguise, Sansa slowly opened the room’s creaky wooden door and slipped out, making a sharp left and heading down the hall in the direction of her quarters.

 _“Perhaps I could bring some books next time, to occupy myself. Or even a bit of sewing.”_ She could not help but smile as she schemed, oh so pleased at the thought of furnishing her little hideaway. _“It’ll need a chair as well, some candles- “_ Suddenly, Sansa’s musing were cut short by the painful sensation of a powerful, armour clad hand grasping her delicate right arm, using it to twist her entire body back around. She yelped loudly, in surprise and in pain, yet the sound instantly caught in her throat as she came face to face with her assailant.

“Well, well, well….” Sandor Clegane smiled, or rather grimaced as best as his scars would allow, as he tightened his grip on Sansa, pulling her closer to his hulking form.

“Look at what I found wandering about. Isn’t it well past your bed time little Bird?” He was so close she could feel the heat of his massive body through his armour, and the ghosting of his wine soaked breath on her chin.

 _“How? How did he find me? How did he know it was me? Has he been…following me?”_ Panic stricken, Sansa attempted to answer, but managed only to stare at his terrifying ruin of a face, and into his angry grey eyes. Yet her lack of response seemed only to aggravate him further, as he shook her slightly and growled,

“Answer me girl! What are ya’ doin’ out here?” he demanded, violently pulling off her hood and exposing her pale face to the light of the hallway torches.

“I-I-I was looking for my maid servant. She has not yet been to see me and I grew concerned. I was simply trying to find her. Please Ser, release me, you’re hurting me!” Sansa all but whined, lamely attempting to pull out the giant’s steely hold.

“Bugger that! Don’t think you can fool me, little Bird. I’m not one of your pathetic Sers that you can charm with your pretty words and your pretty face,” he spoke menacingly as he began to draw nearer, causing Sansa to pull away in fear, only to come to a sudden stop as she felt the rough stones of the wall scrape against her back. His face was now only inches from hers, as he bent over her small form, one massive paw still firmly holding her arm in place, the other now came to grip the back of her neck, forcing her to tilt her head upwards.

“I can smell your lies. Aye, a dog can always sniff em’ out…” he mumbled, and as if to prove his point, lowered his head towards the crook of her neck before inhaling loudly and deeply.

Sansa’s head was spinning as she fought for breath. She was certain the only thing keeping her upright was the man currently pinning her to the wall, and that he could see if not feel the delicate veins in her neck pulsating rapidly as she fought to remain conscious.

“Se-Clegane, I beg of you….stop….don’t touch me.” she whimpered, her voice trembling and her hands coming to push uselessly against him. In her head, Sansa repeated the same mantra over and over, “He won’t hurt me, he showed me kindness when father died, during Joffrey’s Nameday, and again today. He won’t hurt me…”

But her pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as Sandor chuckled lightly and rasped in her ear, “And what if I want to touch you little Bird? What if I want to dirty the King’s fucking betrothed?”

Sansa gasped as the hand which had been holding her arm came to rest on her hip where it pressed insistently.

“Dirty me?”, she though, terrified. Did this beast plan to take her maidenhead? To mercilessly rape her, right here in the halls of the Red Keep? She was not utterly innocent, despite her inexperience, and Sansa knew the mechanics of how a man and a woman made love….and the thought of this man pumping savagely in and out of her woman’s place seemed wrong, oh so wrong.

Gathering her courage, Sansa spoke as quickly and steadily as she could, “You would not take me

against my will, you are no monster…You are not like the other Knights. You are good and honourable, my Lord…you will not hurt me. You’ve protected me.”

Abruptly, Sandor pulled back and stared angrily into her clear blue eyes. He sneered and tightened his grip in her hair, causing Sansa to wince in pain.

“Is that what you think? That I’m your fucking protector? Such a stupid little Bird…no one here is your friend, no one is on your side! We’re all out to hurt you, to bloody you, one way or another.”

With that, he released Sansa and the young girl, utterly exhausted, slid to the floor as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes.

“Get back to bed, child” he said with an air of near contempt. “Before Ser Meryn, or worse yet, your beloved King realise that you’ve managed to escape your cage.”

Sansa closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his heavy boots retreating down he hall. Eventually, there was silence, and she was alone, once again.


	2. Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a tiny one! Useless Shae and mean Sandor..But as they say, cruel to be kind! Please rate and review!! : )

“My Lady?”

Startled, Sansa looked up from her needlework, which she had abandoned minutes ago in favour or simply staring at the various threads, until they all blended together into one indecipherable blur of colour. 

“What?”

“I said you’ve seemed so distracted today M’Lady. And the day before…Is everything alright?”

“I’m sorry Shae, I’m just tired, that’s all…it’s nothing.” Sansa smiled weakly at her maid before quickly returning to her sewing. 

Indeed, she had been distracted ever since her last encounter with Sandor Clegane. She could not stop hearing his cruel words, confirming her worst fears; that in this place she was friendless and helpless. She could trust no one, and her very existence depended solely on Joffrey’s unpredictable whims. 

“Shall I get you some tea M’Lady? Perhaps that would help?”, Shae offered kindly.

Sansa nodded silently and watched as the young woman exited the room. As Shae closed the door, she sighed deeply. What she would do for just a moment alone. She hadn’t returned to her secret hideaway for fear of being discovered, yet again, by the Hound. Yet how she yearned to…

The sound of hurried footsteps and angry voices, one of which was undoubtedly Shae’s, just outside her chamber brought Sansa out of her reverie. As she recognised to whom the second belonged, the young girl rose from her seat and moved behind her chair, the only form of protection she could find. Anything to gain distance from him. 

“What do you want? Where are you taking her?”

“King’s business, woman. I don’t have to answer to the likes of you.”

With a loud bang Sandor pushed open the heavy wooden door of Sansa’s chambers. He was as large and terrifying as ever, clad all in black save for his new white cloak, and the customary look of displeasure plastered across his wounded visage. 

“Come on girl, the King wants you,” he ordered. 

Sansa stood immobile, her nails digging into the wood of the chair. No, he would not take her away, back to her tormentor, to be beaten yet again…

“Are you deaf girl? I said now!” Sandor was clearly loosing what little patience he had, yet Sansa refused to move.

“No…” she whispered, her eyes fixated on his.

“What?” he rasped, sounding rather incredulous as he made several slow steps in her direction, “the fuck did you say?”

“I said no, I won’t go! You cannot force me to leave my chambers against my will!” she yelled, adrenaline overtaking common sense and apparently her will to survive this place.

For a few seconds Sandor seemed genuinely shocked by her sudden rebellion, yet the affect soon wore off as he growled and made his way across the room. 

“The hell I can’t…” 

He grabbed her wrist and roughly pulled her towards him.The chair clattered to the ground and Sansa cried out as he dragged her towards the door, “No! Stop it! Let me go!”

“Quit your struggling girl, it’s no use…”

Sansa turned to look toward Shae, hoping to find assistance, or at the very least pity, but her maid had her eyes firmly fixed to the floor.

Sandor flung Sansa into the hallway where she stumbled gracelessly and all but fell to the ground, before slamming her door shut and turning to face her. The look he bore was one of anger as he approached her, but Sansa stood her ground, even as he leaned towards her and bared his teeth.

“You pull shit like that again, and you’ll soon find your head on a pike rotting away next to your father’s”, he hissed.

“Good!” Sansa screamed, standing tall and unafraid. All reason had fled her; there was nothing left put pain and fury. 

“I’d rather die than be a slave in this place! Do you hear me? I’d rather die! I’d rather- ”

Slap!

The sharp sound reverberated off the stone walls and came to an end with a deafening silence.

Sansa’s trembling hand came to hold her burning cheek, as she brought her gaze to meet that of her agressor. His eyes were so cold, so hardened…

“Next time you won’t be so lucky little Bird. You’ll get your wish, and it’ll be Joffrey’s sword you feel against your neck, not my hand on your pretty face,” he said calmly and with a strange air of defeat. “Now come. Enough of this.”

And Sansa followed.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting slightly steamier....Show some love guys! R & R ; )

Yesterday, Sansa had been spared a beating, thank the Gods. This time Joffey’s abuse had been purely verbal. He had reminded her of her status as a traitor’s daughter, cockily taunted her with news of her brother’s supposed tactical failings and insulted her appearance on several occasions. But she remained physically unscathed.

The only bodily harm she had suffered that day had been that dealt by the Hound. Sansa’s cheek was still sore and sightly red when she was returned to her chambers. She sat in front of her vanity and examined the area, hissing as she gingerly pressed her fingers to the irritated flesh.

 _“How could he…”_ she thought as she sat in front of her vanity and examined the area, hissing quietly as she gingerly pressed her fingers to the angered flesh.

The again, she had become rather hysterical. Who knows who may have heard her had she kept on shrieking like a mad woman, and perhaps Sandor’s quick and painful strike was little compared to Joffrey’s wrath had she indeed refused to follow. Yet never had she felt so out of control, so prepared to throw all caution to the wind and play games with her very life. Never had she expressed a will to die…

There was a soft knock at her door, followed by the soft murmuring of Shae, informing her that it was time to dine with the King. Sansa nodded slowly before rising and smoothing out the new golden dress the Queen had so strongly suggested she wear the next time she was invited to sup with her equally golden son. The material felt stiff, and the gown was far too tight and too low cut for her taste. With one last disapproving glance in the mirror, Sansa turned towards Shae and made her way towards what would no doubt be an unpleasant evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I tire of you Sansa! You’re so painfully dull….” Joffrey yelled as Sansa kept her gaze firmly fixed to her still overflowing plate. She ought to have spoken more as they dined, but could not manage to utter more than than the occasional pleasantries and affirmations.

“Hound! Take her away, before I die of boredom.”

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat at these words. The Hound? Joffrey usually tasked Ser Oakheart with the duty of escorting her back to her chambers following evening meals. Yet Sandor merely nodded silently at the order, and made his way towards Sansa. Making sure to avoid his stormy gaze, she quickly stood, muttered a goodnight to Joffrey and the Queen, and swiftly exited the hall with Clegane in tow.

 _“Perhaps if I say nothing he will simply leave me in peace until we have reached my room,”_ she mused as they walked in total silence, save for the sounds of their footsteps. She did not think she could support yet another emotionally charged encounter with this man who, in all honesty, terrified her in a way which not even Joffrey could boast of. She despised the way in which he always looked upon her with….hunger.

“You need to lie better little Bird, learn how to say what the King wants to hear before he even asks it…since your tight gowns don’t seem to be doin’ much to improve his mood.”

Sansa’s whole body tensed at these words, yet she remained mute and continued to walk steadily ahead.

The Hound laughed at her silence and continued, “What? Didn’t think I would notice? Every fucking man in that room noticed your little teats.”

Was he trying to anger her? To elicit from her an indignant response? Even at these crude words Sansa remained focused on returning to her chambers without ever exchanging a word with her escort.

“Aye, you’ll be a woman soon, to be sure…have you bled yet, girl?”

Sansa clenched her fists. She was almost there, they had reached her chamber door.

“Have you let the King between your legs? Or some other fucker, maybe.”

“Do not speak to me so!” Sansa exclaimed, spinning around only to be met with the Hound’s lazy grin. How dare he mock her! Frowning, she continued angrily,

“I am not some common whore.… I am the King’s betrothed, and you shall address me with respect!”

“Really now? Not a whore?”

Sandor’s hands came to rest on either side of her head, causing her to suddenly back up against the door of her chambers.

“Get off!“ she began to insist, her little hands coming to push at his massive chest. But her cries were cut short as Sandor growled,

“All women are whores, little Bird. From the Queen to your bloody Septa.…You may not be one yet, but just you wait.”

His narrowed eyes held her wide blue ones, yet soon they wavered and lowered to her open lips.

“Aye…and a good little whore you’ll be.” Sandor’s voice had become lower, if that were possible, as he seemed to be contemplating the best way in which to torment his newfound prey.

Sansa could feel the constricting gown tighten and loosen with each consecutive breath, and could do nothing but close her eyes in the hopes that he would soon tire of this sick game.

“Bet you’d suck my cock if I asked nice, wouldn't you?”

“N-No!”

“Or would you prefer for me to lick your sweet cunt, hm? Or play with your teats?” Sandor gruffly whispered, as one of his hands suddenly yanked down the top of Sansa’s dress.

She screamed as the material ripped loudly, her left breast suddenly exposed.

“Please!” she gasped, trying desperately to cover herself, but her efforts were thwarted as the Hound managed to grab both of her wrists in one hand and hold them above her head.

“Fucking perfect…” he rasped as he stared at her exposed chest, before desperately attacking her vulnerable nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

“Ah!” Sansa moaned loudly, disgust mingling with a less familiar sensation, one which travelled to her low belly and warmed her from the inside. She could not stop her pink nipple from hardening as the Hound tugged and teased.

“That’s right, feels good don’t it?” Sandor growled.

Soon he stopped pinching and enclosed her entire breast in his palm, rubbing it in slow circles. Sansa looked down and could not help but immediately look away as she was met by the sight of his enormous hand molesting her small chest.

“What is it? Can’t take the sight of the Hound touching your fucking noble teats?”

He suddenly abandoned the activity, bringing his fingers under her chin and forcing her to gaze upon his mangled flesh and meet his cloudy eyes. He brought his mouth impossibly close to hers, so close she felt as though they were now inhaling each others breath.

“Take a good look girl, and remember my ugly face, remember how you moaned like a slut under my hands when you let your precious King take you on your wedding night.”

With that, he released her and backed away, Sansa’s arms instinctively rising to cover her chest as she stared at the ground.

Silence enveloped them, before Sansa found her voice, weaker than she had anticipated.

“I hate you…” she whispered.

At this confession the Hound merely replied, “Good,” before disappearing down the corridor.


End file.
